Mr Knightley's Ward
by amemerson
Summary: Although always tormented by his irrational fear of illness, eight years ago no one had truly expected Henry Woodhouse to actually fall victim to a sickness that would eventually take his life so suddenly;Neither could anyone believe that George Knightley, who at the peek of his bachelorhood, would succeed in raising the two Woodhouse girls under his care. *Alternate Universe
1. Chapter 1

_"Oh!"_

He had heard the not so quiet gasp through the hall as he walked on her side of the west wing of Donwell Abbey, her rooms stood two doors away and the corridor had been eerily quiet, much too quiet.

 _"Shhh!"_

Mr. Knightley, the grand master of his home, just knew that she was definitely up to something.

Emma Woodhouse had been placed under his care at the tender age of nine, when her father died of illness. While in his deathbed, Mr. Woodhouse had begged George Knightley to take pity on his young daughters so that they could remain in Highbury, where they belonged.

Though already quite the gentleman land owner at the age of five and twenty, he was nowhere near ready to be charged with the care of two young girls; Isabella who had only just been out in society, and her little sister of seven years her junior.

It was only due to the incredibly high respect he had for his father's old friend and the Knightley's long standing friendship with the Woodhouses, that George had kept his promise with the late Henry Woodhouse; after all, he had already been in charge of his younger brother's care, so what harm could two more possibly cause?

Apparently, quiet a lot indeed.

Not only did George have to deal with a then twenty year old John, who was fresh out of University, but he had to worry over making sure Isabella was properly chaperoned at all times, now that she was a respectable young lady. He was ever so glad that he still had the help of the Woodhouse's loyal governess, Miss Taylor, whom proved herself very vital in the raising of the girls.

Little Emma, whom George had always been very fond of, was of course as sharp and as troublemaking as she had always been.

But, it wasn't until Miss Taylor had been asked to accompany John and Isabella to a season in London, when George Knightley truly got a taste of how life as Emma Woodhouse's guardian would be.

He had high hopes that she would grow to be the perfectly accomplished young lady she should be, and he had made it his own personal duty to see that it would be so.

At only nine she was already very clever, Emma had always been a lively child, with pale blue eyes that shined impishly, and an angelical physical loveliness that only proved to enhance her spoiled nature. Most times the little blonde was happy and fanciful, but other times, when provoked, had a bitter temper.

And throughout the years, almost eight in fact, her mentor and protector had come to noticed that above all else she had a shameless mischievousness about her that could prove itself to be very troublesome indeed.

Silent giggles fluttered behind her bedchamber door, and Mr. Knightley had wasted no time in approaching it.

What could she possibly be up to now?

Ever so softly he rapped on the handsome wooden door, waiting for the response that never came, instead he was made aware of more giggles and muffled sighs.

Briefly wondering if and who could possibly be keeping her company, and without any more thought to her right of privacy, the gentleman promptly opened her door.

The next gasp that assaulted his ears was the loudest one yet, and unlike the playful little noises she had been uttering previously, this one was one of surprise and horror.

Mr. Knightley was sure that for the whole minute it took him to realize the scene before him was truly happening, his heart had momentarily stopped.

It only seemed to regain its strength only for him to feel it plummet mercilessly to the very bottom of his being.

There she was, Emma as lovely as always, with some boy shamelessly pressed on top of her in her bed.

The young man was quick to jump out of her arms and onto the floor below her, while she clutched one of her elegantly dressed pillows to cover her lack of modesty.

"Mr. Knightley!" she exclaimed, horrified.

Well she seemed horrified, Mr. Knightley observed bitterly, but he knew her too well.

"Get out." He gritted at the young man—recognizing him as one of his stable boys—and watched him scramble to his feet, clutching the few article of clothing he had disrobed as he speed past him and out of the room.

Mr. Knightley was slightly relived that the boy had not been completely naked, at least.

He would have to deal with him later.

He turned to Emma, who still sat up on her duvet, clutching the pillow to her chest, and he was glad that she too was almost fully dressed, for the most part.

An inexplicable force of anger hit him then, and he felt himself grow more and more furious with each step he took towards her; he was practically seething by the time he reached her and in one swift move, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off the bed.

She landed on her knees at his feet but Mr. Knightly swiftly pulled her up, and so intense was his ire that for the spilt second that she watched him lift his hand up to strike her, Emma felt true fear.

He made to hit her, but stopped himself half way, and dropped his hand.

"Mr. Knightley I—

"Why, Emma…" He interrupted, and she noticed he was no longer looking at her as he spoke; his face was turned away from her and was instead fixed towards the direction of the wall opposite them.

For once in her life, Emma Woodhouse truly felt ashamed of herself.

"Why did you do this?" His voice was thick with anger, and pain.

She suddenly couldn't find her own voice.

"ANSWER ME!" He turned to her then, as he roared the command in the harshest tone she had ever heard him utter.

"I-I…I—

"Do not look so demure, don't you dare look demure!" He snapped, inching closer to her as he clutched her shoulders tightly "I have had enough of your games! What has been going through your head, Emma!"

She bit her lip.

What had been going through her head? For the life of her, she couldn't seem to remember it now.

"Have I not given you everything you have ever wanted? Have I not taken good care of you—looked after you well?" Mr. Knightley asked, "Did not your Miss Taylor raise a respectable young girl? Where did you get it in your mind that you could do something like this!"

"I—we…Mr. Knightley I—

"You are playing with fire, girl!" he gritted, turning his hard gaze away from her once more.

He still could not believe it—any of it!

"I am not a girl any longer!" Emma suddenly shouted, finally recovering herself.

Mr. Knightley snapped his eyes back to her face, and if he weren't so angry and disappointed, he would have been amused at the indignant look in her beautiful eyes.

"Yes." Was his cold reply "You most certainly are."

"I'm a woman!" the blonde girl cried "You want to refuse it, but it is the truth, despite the fact that you will always treat me like a child!"

"What you have shown me here today is childishness" Her guardian sighed, "It is your wish to be treated as an adult, I know, but you do not act like one…and now you do this!"

"We did nothing serious!"

"This is very serious, Emma!" Mr. Knightley snapped, tired "The mere fact that you can't comprehend the severity of it, is exactly why you are no woman."

Despite his ire, he couldn't help but feel the tightening in his chest at the tears that spilled from her pale blue eyes.

"I'm sixteen!" she sobbed "You have given me everything sir, I do not deny it, but I have no freedom! Because you treat me like a child, everyone must follow in your lead and I am sick of it. I. Am. Sixteen!"

Mr. Knightley would certainly think himself very daft indeed if he did not suddenly comprehend what had really been going through his ward's mind, and what exactly had transpired here.

Emma was the essence of mischief, it was true, but despite her naturally flirty way and her extremely charming charisma, she was not a wanton girl—she was no whore—but she was cunning, and while he now understood that her actions were powered by her anger and desperation in getting her way—by showing him that she was certainly not a child—he was still very displeased.

It would never change the fact that she was reckless and wrong, and that had he not found her out in time—despite of her silly belief that nothing serious would have transpired—she could have been ruined forever.

He would never have forgiven himself if she had been, nor would he have forgiven her.

"And as a protest, you do this?" He finally responded, looking her hard in the eyes "Emma this was badly done. You have completely tarnished your reputation, even before it started, and now I am left with having to fix your blunder, as I have had to do with all your other errors!"

The young girl lowered her eyes and bowed her head in shame, she had only wanted to prove to Mr. Knightley that she was no longer a child, but not only had her plan backfired on her, it had not even been executed correctly!

She had only meant to flirt with William, hoping to capture his attention so that whenever Mr. Knightley was around he could realize that if other people no longer saw her as a child then perhaps neither would he.

But curiosity had gotten the best of her and before she knew it she had given away her first kiss, and that only lead to strange new warm feelings in her stomach, which lead to more kisses, and soon they were in her room and it all seemed so smart to her at the time, she thought that maybe if she continued to kiss and touch William then there would be no doubt in anyone's mind about her being a woman.

And to a sick and wrong extent she had wanted someone to find them like that, because she was tired of being treated as a child, of being trapped in the Abbey while other girls her age were all aloud to attend balls and go on seasons.

She had been desperate, and now she was ashamed.

"Emma…" she looked up to find Mr. Knightley's dark blue eyes staring back at her, and she noticed with some slight relief that they were not nearly as cold and angry as they had been moments ago, though Emma's shame heightened when she realized she had never seen them so sad and hurt before.

They were beautiful, and it broke her heart.

"Dry your tears" he muttered, bringing his thumb up so he could gently wipe the long wet trail marring her left cheek "you are not a child any longer, I know…but you certainly are still very young, and I also happen to know that we all make mistakes when we are young; it is our duty to learn from those mistakes"

Emma nodded, trying to offer a small smile, but it only caused more tears to well up in her eyes "I am so sorry, Mr. Knightly" she whimpered miserably.

Whether she truly realized the extreme severity of her actions and regretted them or not, he could never know for sure, but he wanted to believe she did, and he would believe it as blindly as he could, for the sake of his own sanity.

"Shhh…" the gentleman responded, bringing her towards him in a tight hug "no more crying, what is done is done"

"…So sorry, I'm so sorry!" The blonde girl continued to sob while clutching to his coat.

Mr. Knightley sighed and laid his cheek on top of the golden crown of her head "No more tears…" he hummed.

No matter how much she did not want to be seen as a little girl—and Mr. Knightley had to admit to himself that she had indeed grown into a young woman—he could not help but want to keep her like this forever.

He knew she was overdue for her coming out ball, and that he could not fool himself into stalling it any further, but Emma was precious to him, and his only claim on her was the one he held now as her guardian, once she would be out in good society it would not take long for some man to come in and take her from him.

He had always been there for her all her life, from the time she was an infant to the time she was completely orphaned, to now, where he had just almost lost her—and that thought scared him, especially when it had been so real. He had always been her protector, and he could not imagine himself in a world were he no longer was.

George was still angry with her, and he would be for quite some time now, but he could not help but notice that apart from angry and disappointed, he was hurt by her action—more hurt than he would have ever imagined— in fact his heart had yet to calm.

So while he stroked Emma's long hair soothingly, George Knightley couldn't help clenching his strong jaw as he came to the sudden realization that he had never ever wanted to hurt another human being more than he did that treacherous stable boy.

...

A/N: Just a small taste of an old story I found from a few years back when I was at the peek of my Emma (well technically Mr. Knightly, tbh) obsession. If you guys find it an interesting read then just let me know and I'd be more than happy to continue it, now that I have a lot more free time :)

Please review and tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

William Hill was not a troublemaker by any means, and those who knew him could attest to that, he had always been a good sort of boy with an easy temperament.

He was also very efficient at his job, tending to the horses.

In fact, most of the other workers at the Abbey would say that he was very good at it, and even Mr. Knightley himself had once praised him for his efforts.

Young Hill chuckled bitterly, Mr. Knightley would certainly never praise him ever again after this day.

 _Emma Woodhouse_

He had always known her smile would someday ruin him.

He had admired it for far too long for it to not have, ever since he caught the first glimpse of her the day she and her sister removed to Donwell.

It was a memory that would forever be etched on his mind.

William had only been a lad of eleven then, living with his late mother, who worked at the kitchens; he had always enjoyed spending his time out with the horses at the stables but that particular day the whole Abbey had been so anxious in preparing for the arrival of the two Woodhouse girls and their governess, that even the stables were being cleaned out, so he and the other children were aloud to play around the grounds.

It was while he and his friend Thomas, one of the footmen's sons, were exploring by the lake when one of Hartfield's carriages had arrived.

William was naturally curious, as any other child would have been, so he had taken particular notice when Mr. Knightley and Master John, who had been waiting promptly, had step forward to help the three passengers down.

The first had been a lady in black, whom had bowed at them in greeting before another lady stepped down; the second was a younger girl who also wore a black dress, though in a much more elegant style than the first, and had blushed prettily at Master John when he offered her his arm.

But it was the last girl who had caught both his and Thomas's distinct attention, for the little blonde girl who had clung to Mr. Knightley as he helped her down must had been their age at the most!

They had always heard about the infamous younger Miss Emma Woodhouse whenever she visited Mr. Knightley at Donwell, but neither of them had actually seen her, and by talk of the stories they had always seemed to picture a much older girl.

After all, Mr. Knightley could not have possibly have had such a strong friendship with anyone younger, or so they had wrongly assumed!

She had been very small then, with skin so pale it contrasted against the dark ebony of her dress in a manner that seemed as if she glowed, and her hair was almost the color of straw, like in the stables where he loved to play, and she was so very pretty, William had never believed he would ever dare to find a girl pretty before then!

They had both continued watching her in surprise as the two gentlemen lead them away towards the Abbey.

She had been holding Mr. Knightley's hand when they caught her gaze, and from afar he could not tell what color her eyes were, though he knew they would be lovely, but he did however get to catch the brilliant smile she offered before turning away to speak with her guardian.

It was all it took for him to be mesmerized.

So everyday after that faithful afternoon, William had felt himself bewitched by her smile, and would go to great lengths just to catch the young mistress wearing it.

And now of course, it would very fitting indeed that he would eventually fall ruined because of it.

The young man couldn't help but clutch the top of his hair in a sudden act of aware desperation.

 _'_ _My god what have I done!'_

...….

An hour or so later, when Mr. Knightley had managed to be calm enough to trust himself not to do anything that he'd eventually regret, he set out towards the barns in hopes of finding that ungrateful, no good little—

"No" the dark haired man reminded himself with a small sigh, doing his best to control his temper from escalating to the levels he had been trying ever so hard to avoid " just like Emma, he too is merely young and reckless" he reminded himself, chastising his thoughts.

After all, George too had once been a young boy, he was not above sympathizing—and really, what man can claim to never have been heedless at least once in their life? Particularly when women, and this he also had learned from a young age, pretty women especially, had a way of drawing even the most foolish of behaviors from out of their masculine counterparts—no it wasn't that he couldn't understand young Mr. Hill's desires, it was that he couldn't forgive that the boy had ever even dared to act upon them!

And on _his_ ward no less!

He felt his fists tighten a little more with each stride he took, just thinking about the incident bubbled his blood like no other, and no matter how hard he tried the gentleman just could not calm his ire.

He found him in the stables—where he should have never left in the first place! Mr Knightley could not help but think bitterly—sitting on a pile of hay, covering his face with his hands in what the older man assumed was an ashamed gesture.

Unfortunately for the young man, George was obviously not in the mood to take pity on him, or anyone for that matter.

"Stand up" he all but snarled.

William Hill snapped his head up in surprise, and upon seeing his master he jumped out of his makeshift seat and stood before him with his head bowed low.

The older man observed him silently, as if really looking at the boy for the first time.

He really couldn't have been much older than Emma, Mr. Knightley noted; taking in the young mans trembling person.

Although quite tall, young Hill still stood about a foot and a half shorter than his employer; he was not a lanky boy by far, sporting the rough presence that only one whom has spent many days riding and working on a field could develop.

A presence so different than the ones his ward had ever been accustomed to; after all what business would a gentleman's daughter could possibly want with a farm worker?

And for a brief second—so very brief in fact, that perhaps he hardly even realize he had done it—Geroge wonder to himself what it was that Emma had found pleasing about the boy in the first place.

Was she attracted to his strawberry blond waves, or had the deep green irises that wouldn't dare look up at him been what captivated her so?

They stood like this for what felt like an eternity, when perhaps in reality it couldn't have been less than half an incredibly tense minute, before one of them finally broke the silence.

"Sir, I am sor—

"No." Mr. Knightley cut him off; interrupting the boy's ridiculous notion of thinking he could merely offer a simple, pitiful apology.

William's frown deepened, but still he did not dare lift his head "Sir you have every right to punish me as severe—

"You will be quiet!" The master of Donwell snapped, incensed. He had not trusted himself to speak just yet, but it was hopeless, he could not be—would not be— calmed no matter how hard he tried.

"I pray I do not strike you" he confessed, words bathed in his ever-amounting anger " for if I do I will be tempted to never stop."

How could this boy stand before him and think that only a punishment would solve this matter, did he too not realize the severity of his actions?

Emma was a sheltered child, a girl who knew nothing of the ways of the world, but what excuse did this William Hill have?

"Sir!...I-I was momentarily lost, I…I never meant to—

"You do not…" Mr. Knightley cut him off once more, uncharacteristically gritting his teeth rather harshly "ever touch Miss Woodhouse. Of course you do not throw yourself at any innocent girl, but you especially do not touch Miss Woodhouse!"

"Yes sir—

"Silence!" The images of his ward under the boy taunted and persisted over and over in George's mind, Emma's giggles and her gasps, wouldn't—couldn't silence themselves, there they were permanently mocking him.

" How dare you? Have you no respect for this house? Have you no respect for me? I know you certainly have no respect for Miss Woodhouse!"

George kept his fists balled up at his sides; so intense was his effort to not throw himself at the young man that his tensed body visibly shook in constrained anger.

"Sir I do respect the abbey and all of its inhabitants, of course!" William defended, finally getting a word in edge wise, he also looked up at last, but only in an effort to convey his sincerity "I may have been tempted—however my loyalties will always stand with you and your home—but sir please you must understand!"

"Oh and what must I understand, exactly?" the older man scoffed indignantly.

"That I am a man, I ask you who else could not have done the same, sir!" the young man countered desperately as he begged of his superior.

"A gentleman!" was Mr. Knightley angry retort, clearly unimpressed with the boy's weak justification.

William laughed bitterly "stable boys have no chance at being gentlemen, last I heard"

"What nonsense!" George spat in response, growing impossibly angrier with the present confrontational demeanor the boy was now developing "furthermore, gentleman or not, she is but a girl!"

"She is a beautiful young woman!" Young William countered, now he too couldn't help but ball his own two fists at his sides.

He'd be dammed if he allowed himself to be alluded as the sole culprit in _Miss Woodhouse's_ little game "You cannot expect a different reaction form any man—gentleman or not—when her manner towards me is so shamelessly wanton!"

That was enough. That was the most George Knightley was willing to ever allow!

Before he knew it he had grabbed the boy by his shirt vest and pulled him up to him roughly " She is infinitely above your notice" the dark-haired man spoke, through gritted teeth "And despite your reckless actions, do you possibly believe that you can offer her anything, now that you have been caught, hmm?" he asked.

Ignoring the abashed look in Williams's sad green eyes, Mr Knigtley didn't bother to wait for a reply.

"You could not, boy!" he finished with a hiss, before shoving him back down again.

The young man stumbled back in shock, tripping on his own feet and falling mercilessly on his haunches onto the straw covered grown.

"She is not ruined" he spat back, clumping up the straw and dirt before him onto his fist in anger and frustration. William knew that the more he spoke the more he'd damn himself, but he could not back down now "…well at least not by me."

George clenched his jaw, enraged he once more grabbed the boy and pulled him up to his feet only to knock him back down again by connecting his strong fist to the young man's face.

Mr. Knightley initially had not wanted to strike him at all, but it was hopeless now.

"You will watch your words!" he warned, watching as the boy was knocked down to the ground once more.

William held his hand up to his face and dabbed the small bit of blood that appeared at the right corner of his mouth, he inspected the wet fingers while licking the wound in his lips with an angry frown.

So this was Master Knightley's true temper, he inwardly scorned, _'_ _gentleman indeed'_

"You are within your rights sir, it is true that I am nothing but a worthless stable boy, but you too must open your eyes to Miss Woodhouse!"

"That is no concern of yours—

"It was _she_ who came looking for me" the young man reminded his superior, acidly "I do not go inside the manor, I have no need to, but she herself lead me straight to her chamber—it was she who wanted to call attention to herself!"

"You dared—

"It was _I_ who has been used and discarded, do not you forget it sir!" This time it was William who would not allow George to speak, he'd be heard even if it were the last thing he'd do.

"It was _my_ heart Miss Woodhouse toyed with—not the other way around—all so you could stop treating her like the fragile doll you seem to think her to be!" he reasoned, the distress evident in his voice.

The boy's anguish could not go unnoticed by Mr. Knightley, not matter how much he wished he could be ignorant to it.

Looking down at the shallow breathed and bleeding youth before him, the older man found himself ever slowly relaxing his tense posture. This was exactly the reason why he did not want to escalate his anger any more than necessary in the first place.

This really was after all _just_ a boy.

And although his heart could not be calmed, and his indignation could not be curved—in fact his very body and soul could not rest until he found some semblance of control in this nightmare of a complication—George forced himself to find any small restrain he could muster.

There before him was a lad of no more than nine and ten, he was sure. And though the boy was perfectly capable of comprehending right from wrong, Mr. Knightley could not feign that he himself indeed was also blindsided to Emma's charms!

If he, a man with thirty-one years of life's exposure on his back, could easily be taken in by the wiles of his much younger ward, then how could he expect any better from the boy before him?

He surveyed as the young man wiped his swollen eyes with his sleeve in an effort to hide the tears that threatened to fall as he continued to tremble with what Mr. knightly could imagine were all sorts of emotions.

George let out a long and very weary sigh.

"You will tell not a soul about this" he commanded, removing his gaze away from the boy "I will make it my personal obligation that you find the proper position elsewhere as far away from here as possible, and you will be paid handsomely for your secrecy."

"I-I am to be sent away?" William asked rushing to pull himself to his feet, his frown deepening "No, sir please! I promise not to—

"I have been kind" Mr. Knightley responded coldly, his own dark blue eyes not once looking back to meet the boy's emerald ones.

"Sir I beg of you!" The young man cried, now throwing himself at his master's feet "this is the only home I know!"

Forcibly removing himself from the boy's despairing hold, the older man turned away, still not once sparing him a single glance— for how could he?

"You will be expected to be ready for your removal tomorrow." He muttered, as slow calm steps carried his voice farther away still.

When William Hill finally looked up from the ground he kept wishing would just swallow him whole, Mr. Knightley had long gone.

There was nothing to keep his wretched sobs from leaving his body now.

He had fallowed her lovely smile, no matter where it went, and he knew she didn't love him nor would ever love him, but he had let himself be captivated by her charm nonetheless.

' _Emma Woodhouse!'_ he cursed from within his very being, banging his fists down on the filthy stable floor _'_ _I should of known you would be the end of me!'_

 _..._

A/N: Shame on you Emma, making our poor Mr. Knightley act so out of character!

I just want to thank the three very lovely people who review the last chapter, it meant so much to hear from you…it really is inspiring to read what others have to say about your work :D

With that said, I hope you found this chapter to your liking as well, more to come soon!


	3. Chapter 3

It was such a lovely afternoon, the sun was out and surrounded by large bright clouds as it had not rain for the whole of the week, and there was a very pleasing breeze flowing through the trees.

The gardens were especially nice, even the flowers seemed to gleam in the glory of such a perfect day; and that was exactly why Miss Taylor had chosen to spend all of her free time for the day in one of the white marbled benches outside, overlooking Donwell's vast grounds.

It was a simple pleasure for the governess as she was able to use this peaceful respite to draw up an adequate lesson plan for her dear Emma.

Anne Taylor sighed contentedly as she scribbled down on her paper yet another book title for her charge to read, listening in appreciation to the soft chirping of some nearby birds.

"It will not be debated Mr. Larkins!"

The placid governess found herself frowning ever so slightly, recognizing the familiar voice instantly.

"But sir, surely we have no need to replace young Hill—

"It has already been arranged, let's not argue about it any further!"

Miss Taylor's frown deepened, how very strange it was to hear such a crass tone from the master of the abbey she now called home.

Setting aside her papers and pen, the lady turned her attention to the direction of the two men striding nearby, noticing that the younger of the two was sporting an angry red face accompanied by a sour frown.

 _'Whatever could be the matter?'_ she wondered to herself, concern now completely marring her once ever so serene features.

"…Very well, I will do as you say" William Larkins responded then, bowing briefly in respect before taking notice of the governess watching them from not too far away, the old man averted his eyes "I shall go now and alert one of the coachmen for tomorrow's departure."

And with that he was gone, strolling away quickly in the opposite direction in an effort to complete his task, or as Miss Taylor would rather assume, to simply avoid the gentleman land owner any more grievance than he'd dare inflict.

Mr. Knightley nodded absentmindedly, now too catching the governess' steady yet concerned gaze.

Anne waved him over, allowing curiosity to consume her, despite her better judgment.

How long now had it been since they had promised each other to work diligently in supporting one another during this new path in which life had unexpectedly placed them?

Miss Taylor herself had never imagined that she would one day be a resident of Donwell, continuing her care for the two sweet girls she'd never believe would have had the horrible misfortune of loosing yet another parent—and while being under the service of a young gentleman she had only previously merely known as the beloved guest to the family, no less!

However despite the many trials and tribulations, it was a burden they two were more than willing to share in honor of their mutual love and respect for the Woodhouses.

So after all those years the young governess liked to think that she and Mr. Knightley had been able to establish a fond friendship in which they could confide their worries to one another with ease.

This she assured herself while observing the visibly tensed gentleman as he approached her bench rather cautiously, despite her offered greeting of a friendly smile.

"I am sorry to have disturbed your peace, Miss Taylor" George began, rather shamefaced.

"Oh it is of no matter, I was merely planning Emma's next lessons" she replied, waving his apology away with a gentle shake of her head.

At the mentioning of her pupil, Miss Taylor couldn't help but notice Mr. Knightley visibly pale, more so than he already had been!

"Why Mr. Knightley is everything alright?" she asked, worried once more "Pardon my saying, but you look quite ill—shall I call on doctor Perry?"

"It is Emma" The somber man responded, accepting Anne's silent offer to take the seat next her "I…I do not know what to do with her…"

"Good heavens!" Miss Taylor cried in outrage, bringing her hand up to her chest in surprise "What ever could you possibly mean?"

George heaved a heavy sigh "I do not want to speak of it here" he admitted "however I have seen to it with the best of my abilities, at least that I can say."

"You frighten me, Mr. Knightley—what has happened to my Emma!"

The gentleman laughed humorlessly "Oh she is quite well, do not you worry."

Miss Taylor let out the breath she had been holding at the thought of her beloved student being in any peril, and suddenly found herself chuckling.

"Well what could she have possibly done now that would warrant such a disagreeable reaction from you?" she asked "I dare say Mr. Knightley, you look as if our Emma has run off to Gretna Green with the son of a butcher"

"Not the butcher's son, I'm afraid it is stable boys who are more to her liking"

The governess now truly could not stop herself from laughing daintily at her employer's ever growing melancholic expression "Oh Mr. Knightley, whatever Emma has done, at least that is not something we will ever have to worry about" she assured, voice coated in amusement.

But the grave look the gentleman suddenly gave her halted any of her further mirth.

She shook her head in disbelief "No." Miss Taylor stated confidently, what a cruel trick Mr. Knightley was playing on her!

George however offered no other response than that of turning his dark blue eyes away from her in an act of resigned forbearance.

"It certainly cannot be anything remotely like that, tell me it is not—this is Emma we are speaking of!" She exclaimed, still assertive of her justification.

Mr. Knightley stood up then, and Anne could now very well see that he was clearly distressed.

His eyes were bloodshot, and it looked as if he was battling a headache that was threatening to split his head in two.

"It is not my wish to upset you, Miss Taylor, nor do I think it was of Emma's design either—just know that she is still very safe, and nothing of such intense nature was able to occur, thankfully"

The governess's deep brown eyes grew wide, and she too rose up from her seat "B-but… you mean to say that there has really been such a scandal—tell me there has not, I beg of you!" she pleaded.

George shook his head "I am assuring you now, there will be no such scandal" he replied with certainty, offering her his hand so that he could lead the now tormented lady back to her seat, in an effort to calm her.

But Miss Taylor was past anguished now, she could not fathom anything the gentleman before her was telling her, it was as if he was speaking in riddles, horrible, despairing riddles of which offered only clues that painted the worst possible scenarios in her mind.

 _'When had Emma ever even had the smallest most remote interest in a boy, or in any boy for that matter!'_

The Emma Woodhouse she knew would never set her looks so below her—a stable boy—for the girl who prided herself with having the honor and right to such an illustrious social standing?

 _'Mr. Knightley must be mistaken, she would never throw it all away for some boy…'_

But this was George Knightley after all, he would never speak of something so severe unless he had the outmost certainty that it was so, she reason sorrowfully.

And then as if suddenly coming to some sort of realization, the dark haired lady gasped.

"Tell me this has nothing to do with the person you spoke of with Mr. Larkins just a moment ago!" She suddenly asked her employer, who continued to stand over her as he observed her reaction with worried eyes.

Mr. Knightley found himself looking away from her once more, choosing to focus his attention on the nearby trees instead.

Such a beautiful day as this he would have much rather preferred spending atop of his horse, visiting his tenants…and now he couldn't even think of any horse at all without feeling his anger rising.

"We will speak of it more at a better time" he finally replied, after a quiet moment.

The governess frowned, unsatisfied.

"Indeed I have no semblance as to how to go about it at all at the moment…nor do I understand how in the end, despite everything, she still very much manages to get her way" George continued to say, letting out a shaky yet amused chuckle, for the humor of it all could not escape even him.

Calming her breathing, Miss Taylor prompted her student's guardian to continue, through the offering of a thoroughly perplexed expression.

"You must help me plan for Emma's coming out celebration"

Anne Taylor's chestnut colored eyes grew even larger in surprise "W-what? Pardon what—well finally—I mean…it is wonderful that you have decided to do so—but I am so very confused—i-is she no longer…Am I correct to assume that Emma has not been ruined after all?"

For what must have been the one hundredth time that day, George Knightley sighed in exasperation, he shook his head in the negative "Come…" he spoke, helping her stand to her feet again, offering the young governess his arm so that he may lead her back to the manor.

"We must be discreet, but I will tell you everything inside Donwell."

...

Emma sighed softly as she stared at her reflection through the expensive gold trimmed mirror atop of her vanity table, whilst her lady's maid attempted to dress her pretty, long blonde locks.

"Shall I braid your hair, Miss Woodhouse?"

The young girl knitted her thin eyebrows together as she continued to observe herself absentmindedly.

"Hmm?" she mumbled at the older girl, as if in a trance.

"Would the young mistress want her hair braided?" came the maid's soft reply in a soothing slight French accent, as she now massaged the top of Emma's golden hair with her pale lithe fingers.

"No, like this is fine, thank you Sophie"

Her maid smiled, she grabbed an intricate silver comb from on top of the fine wooden table before proceeding to gently use it to smoothen the girl's hair.

"Very well, Miss."

Emma suddenly frowned, she had been watching carefully as the other girl had parted her hair away from the left side of her neck when she spotted it.

On the upper part, right before her jawbone began, there was an angry red welt marring her creamy ivory skin.

She gasped!

When did that ever get _there_?

"Oh Miss Woodhouse, I am most sorry" the maid was quick to apologize, stopping her task immediately "was I pulling too hard?" she asked, looking down at the mirror to find her mistress's worried blue eyes staring back up at her.

"No!" Emma responded rather shocked, quickly bringing her hand up to her neck in an effort to cover the small bruise.

The French girl raised her dark eyebrows in confusion, catching the action, but knowing better than to pry.

Once again she continued her combing duties, wondering to herself how it was that the young Miss Woodhouse, of whom was still considered only but a child in the eyes of her guardian, had come about getting a mark so unbefitting as the one she was now trying ever so hard to hide.

She had found it quite strange already, when the girl was not as chatty as her usual self.

Emma had yet to bring her hand back down and away from her neck, when the maid caught her frightened gaze through her reflection once again.

"It has been quite terrible these days" Sophie suddenly found herself commenting, "those horrible pests have been biting everyone, I see that Miss Woodhouse too has not been safe"

The blonde girl's pale blue eyes grew wider still, and she turned around to look up at her maid with a surprised smile "I hope it has not been too horrible for you, Sophie" she responded gratefully "I for one hope to never get _bitten_ again"

The older girl laughed, amused at the new light in her mistress's eyes "that is very good to hear, Miss"

Emma grinned and turned back to stare at the mirror while Sophie continued her combing, now she finally aloud herself to lower her hand away from her bruised neck, she would not forget the young woman's kindness any time soon!

"Sophie?" She called after a few more minutes had passed.

"Yes Miss Woodhouse"

"Have you ever been in love?" Emma questioned, playing with an elegant perfume filled glass bottle her sister Isabella had bought her from her last trip to Bath.

Although the bottle itself was beautiful, Mr. Knightley had once said that the fragrant water inside was much too strong and mature for her, and despite wearing it the whole week after it arrived, the blonde girl had never used it even once more since he had mentioned the fact.

"In love you ask, Miss Woodhouse?" her lady's maid responded, placing the comb back down besides her on the vanity table.

"Yes, I always hear that a girl's biggest want is to be married" the blonde mentioned curiously "is that a wish of yours?"

"I suppose that is true" Sophie replied thoughtfully, now grabbing the satin ribbon her mistress had previously chosen upon her arrival to the dressing room "as you have asked, I have been very fortunate to have found someone who I love very dearly, and who I hope says the same about me"

"You have?"

The young woman blushed prettily, to Emma's amusement "I believe so" she confessed.

The younger girl's bright eyes shinned mischievously "Oh, and who is this man who has captivated you so?" she inquired, waving away the maid's effort to place the ribbon on her hair "do I know him?"

Sophie laughed, "Unless you have been to my hometown in France, you have not" she informed the anxious Emma, trying once more to place the ribbon without success.

"I suppose not…" the blonde pouted, turning her back to the maid once again and allowing her to style her hair properly.

While Sophie continued to pamper her, Emma listened with amp attention to the story of how she and Armand were childhood friends, and how years later despite her moving to England for need of employment, he had asked her younger brother for the details of her occupational arrangements.

"He has been writing to me ever since" she explained, lowering her voice to a soft whisper "under the guise of a long lost cousin, Viviane Lefaux" she giggled.

"How very exciting!" her mistress proclaimed, bringing her small hand up to her lips in astonishment "To be so daring, I wonder if such is really the way of love?"

"I am strong believer that nothing, Miss Woodhouse, should ever interfere with love" the maid replied, her smile was so intoxicating that even Emma found herself grinning as well.

"How does it feel then, to be in love?" She wondered out loud, surprised with her own question, for she had never once thought of it in that way before.

She watched as the maid paused in thought for a second, before continuing to sort through some pearls inside one of the younger girl's jewelry boxes "Oh Miss Woodhouse, it is quite possibly the most difficult feeling to explain—other than I suppose, saying that it feel's wonderful…in fact, sometimes too wonderful" Sophie finally replied.

The older girl's smile faltered however when she turned to look back at her Mistress, who was once more looking away from her, and was now quietly observing something in her hands.

"Miss Woodhouse?" she called.

Emma frowned while turning a small wilting cornflower in between her fingers; its vibrant blue color had dulled considerably since William Hill had picked it for her not merely three days ago.

He had been very kind, and although she knew not to encourage such behaviors, she had not been able to bring herself to refuse it.

All it ever served however was to enhance her sins, and help trick the boy in the worst possible manner, not caring in the very least the consequences it might bring to either of them.

This she realized was the farthest thing from love.

Scrunching her nose distastefully, the blonde girl couldn't help but huff indignantly; she did not even like cornflowers in the very least, so why in the world would she ever even keep such a thing!

Thrusting the flower away from her in a very un-lady like manner, Emma pointedly ignored the shocked look Sophie gave her, as the dark haired maid rushed to retrieve it.

"I do not think I will ever fall in love" she confessed, "I have never felt in such a way—I fear it is impossible for me"

"That is because you are still very young, Miss Woodhouse" Sophie replied with a laugh, cradling close to her heart the poor drooping plant she had managed to save.

Emma offered another indignant huff "I am not so very young" she reminded the darker haired young woman, crossing her arms in annoyance "it is ever so tiring that everyone treats me as a child."

"The young mistress is right, of course!" her maid was quick to assure, with another one of her melodic laughs "You are not a child, but you are still quite young—indeed there is no hurry for you to find love, or marry"

Satisfied, the young mistress nodded "but the Cole's oldest daughter married when she was around my age now" she countered, rolling her eyes ever so slightly as she watched Sophie place her discarded flower gently besides her.

"Yes but Miss Woodhouse, you are not the Cole's daughter" the maid reminded, returning her attention back to the pearls.

"Not just anyone will do for you—you are quite lucky, a young lady like you has a whole different world of options to pick from the best and richest of men" she added "and all the time you could ever wish for to make your choice"

"Is it really so different?" Emma questioned, intrigued.

The only marriage she had ever really seen was that of her sister and her brother in law John, Isabella herself had not married quite so young as the former Miss Cole, though even long before she turned twenty, Emma had been able to tell how large her sister's admiration truly ran for Mr. Knightley's younger brother.

Sophie nodded vehemently "Why of course" she responded; now fastening the beautiful jewel around the blonde girl's thin neck "many young girls must hurry and marry the best offer they can receive, if they ever hope to live satisfying lives"

"But what if I cannot love any man, even if he is the most amiable and the best suited?" the young girl complained, adjusting her pearls properly "What if I do not want to marry at all?"

"Ah but there lies the difference!" her maid was quick to counter, "You Miss Woodhouse shall always be rich regardless" she assured, sighing longingly "You have no need to marry if you truly do not want to—you may choose to be a rich spinster instead, and those are of the best kind"

Emma pondered at the idea for a moment, biting her lips thoughtfully "But what of Miss Bates?" she asked, an image of the garrulous lady popping in her head "She is a spinster, and a silly woman—I do not want to end up like her"

"Miss Bates is not rich, Miss Woodhouse" Sophie reminded her "and as I have said, you are but only six and ten—still so young, and very handsome! A young lady such as you will never have any trouble finding a suitable husband"

Still uncertain of whatever path she would one day choose for herself, Emma merely nodded, she supposed things such as these were better left to the doings of fate…however despite how much she strongly believed there would never be a man whom she could come to love as much as Sophie seemed to care for her Armand.

"Mr. Knightley, himself, has never married" the blonde suddenly pointed out, as if realizing that her present wish was not so much of abnormality "perhaps I will be like him" she reasoned.

Her lady's maid, who at being satisfied with her young mistress current appearance had now proceeded to prepare the dress that Emma would eventually wear for the evening's supper, looked up from her work to shake her head in amusement at the comment.

"Mr. Knightley is still youthful and handsome" she responded "It would not be so very surprising at all if he were to find a bride eventually, especially with such a grand fortune to recommend him"

Emma made a face "I cannot see Mr. Knightley being in love" she admitted "I am sure he will remain a confirmed bachelor forever."

The young girl tried her best to be ladylike and not snicker, but just the mere thought of her guardian proclaiming his love for any woman made her want to laugh hysterically.

"The lord works in mysterious ways, Miss Woodhouse" Sophie countered, bringing her attention back to the beautiful salmon colored muslin dress "one can never be too sure of such things."

Emma's frown deepened "…Mr. Knightley cannot not marry!" she exclaimed, annoyance ringing clear in her voice "Our little nephew Henry is to inherit, he has said so himself!"

Why, Mr. Knightley marrying was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard of!

Who would even dare intrude upon this happy home and covet what rightfully belonged to little Henry?

No, Emma was certain that her guardian would never do such a silly thing!

She could just picture a loathsome, obnoxious woman marching into Donwell, dragging a love sick Mr. Knightley behind her as she'd voice her plans to change up every little corner of the abbey with her supposed refined tastes and her superiority.

Nothing would do! All but that of the late former Mrs. Knightley's old jewels and fabrics would go, of course.

Even she herself would certainly be an unsightly sore, and how long after would the witch beg her guardian to send her away to some boarding school in god knows where—or worse! Send her off to live with John!

Emma brought her hands up to her face in order to rub her now reddening checks in an effort to cover up her exasperation.

She loved her older sister with all her heart and soul, and her nephews were her world, but she would even rather be married than to share a home with that nagging brother in law of hers!

The blonde girl visibly shivered at the thought.

On the other side of the room, not too far away, Sophie proceeded to work quietly in an effort to continue to hide her amused smile, or the laugh that was threatening spill out from her should she continue to watch the different array of expressions her young mistress kept revealing after the strong proclamation from her last statement.

If the French young woman hadn't know any better, she would have assumed that Miss Woodhouse looked to be quite jealous indeed at the very notion that her Mr. Knightley should ever be in want of a wife!

...

A/N: Jane Austen once wrote that her Emma would be a heroine "whom no one but (she herself) will much like"…However I think I might have beaten her there, unfortunately.

But hey, if twenty-one year old Emma was such a troublemaker, you can't really expect teenage Emma to be much better, can you? ;P

Once again I want to thank everyone who's reviewed and favored and all that good stuff, it makes me so happy that you all are appreciating this crazy story! Keep laying it on me, your thoughts are always welcomed!

(And yes I do realize I'm rambling now, sorry)

More to come soon! :D


	4. Chapter 4

" _Emma"_

The sixteen year old not so proud—well at least at the very moment—owner of the name being called, borrowed deeper into her fine rosewood wardrobe as her small delicate hands pressed one of her thick winter coats closer against her face in a shameless effort to hide herself.

" _Emma!"_

Teeth bit into quaking cardinal lips as the dreaded voice neared her chamber door, and as her eyes closed in supplication, the blonde girl stifled a desperate moan, hoping with all her might that one look around the seemingly empty room would be enough to fool her pursuer.

"Emma Woodhouse, do you not hear me calling?" her governess' complaint was now clear as day—a fine indication of her arrival—as it was heavily emphasized by the sound of doors bursting open with more force than the young girl had ever heard her make.

"…Emma?"

This time the guilty party ran the risk of suffocation lest she allowed the sudden urge to giggle at the sound of Miss Taylor's bemusement, give away the perimeter of her almost flawless self-made alcove of protection.

 _Almost._

Before Emma even had time to clutch yet another coat to better cover her person, the doors to her armoire were ripped open to reveal the exasperated face of one quite un-amused dark haired governess.

The girl's nervous laugh did nothing to dissipate the anger from the chestnut colored orbs looking down pointedly at her.

"My dear, must you always keep insisting to hide in the very same place each time?" the older woman questioned flatly.

Her pupil's hopeful demeanor crumbled as thin shoulder's drooped in defeat, today would not be a day she could easily worm her way out of her dear Miss Taylor's rare show of vexation, this she could already tell.

Another nervous laugh, "Here I am, Miss Taylor" the blonde finally replied trying to smile nonetheless—anything was worth the shot at this point after all—"Is something the matter?"

"Oh Emma, you know exactly what the matter is!" her governess panted "I have been told of-of what has transpired here in this very room—and I must say shock is nearly not enough to express what I am feeling!"

The blonde haired girl inhaled softly, of course Mr. Knightley would have disclosed to Miss Taylor the details of her shameful behavior with William, she reasoned with a pout.

' _Now I shall never live it down for the rest of my natural life'_ she found herself inwardly lamenting.

At the continued look of thinly veiled horror coated in perplexity from the older woman, Emma finally lowered her brilliant eyes in shame.

"You have been told…"

"Of course I have been told, Emma!" Miss Taylor's voice sounded about ready to tremble with despair "and we must forever be obliged to Mr. Knightley for intervening when he did—Oh my Emma, what ever were you thinking!"

"I cannot say that I was thinking" the young girl admitted, turning away from her dearest of confidants, even as an already forgiving hand extended towards her in the hopes of coasting her out of the poorly chosen hiding place "h-how could I have?"

Noting the pitiful tone in the other's voice, there was a short pause, before Miss Taylor heaved a small sigh.

"You cannot stay in here forever, my love" the governess reasoned, attempting to take hold of her pupil's hand once more.

"We can't possibly know that unless I try"

However the older woman's will was much greater than her own, and before she knew it Emma was assisted in climbing out of the makeshift wooden fortress not a minute later.

Miss Taylor petted her cheeks with both her hands, and though her pupil's gaze was still averted, she was able to tell from the puffiness of her eyes that hiding was not all that was done inside the wardrobe.

"My dear child, why did you not come to me?" she asked, taking a step closer to the girl in an effort to convey her truest sincerity "we could have spoken of it and addressed your frustrations, I myself would have proposed your wishes to Mr. Knightly"

"It cannot be said that I have not!" Emma complained, pulling away from the older woman before turning her back to her in indignation, more tears welling in her eyes.

"How long have I expressed a want to be treated in accordance to my age, Miss Taylor—nobody has listened until now!"

Tears of her own trailed down the young governess' eyes, she wouldn't even dare pretend that her charge's pain did not affect her, this was after all the little girl she had taken under her wing and raised from the age of four, and though she knew she could never presume Emma to see her as such a figure, Miss Taylor could not help the maternal love she felt for the girl swelling inside her heart.

It was such a strong everlasting kind of emotion, that even Emma herself could feel it radiating from the woman despite her efforts in pushing her away.

Therefore the young girl couldn't help but allow her reliable Miss Taylor's arms to pull her back around as warm and assuring hands enclosed over her own cold and shaky ones.

"I too have been unfair to you, my precious girl, I did not want to cause poor Mr. Knightley any further inconvenience, of that I am guilty" The governess revealed sorrowfully, before allowing her dark eyebrows to fall in disappointment "but this was not the way to do it, this was very dangerous indeed!"

"I was drowning in desperation!"

Well, the exasperation in her charge's voice was _certainly_ abundantly clear.

"So desperate you are to outgrow us?" a watery laugh attempted to mask Miss Taylor's sob, she was now clutching her beloved student to her chest in a desperate embrace.

"Cannot you see for yourself that it is not easy to watch our little Emma grow more and more each day?" she admitted.

She could understand the young girl's frustrations, but she too favored her guardian's sentiments.

It was not easy to see such a sweet, happy, and playful child who's dependency you have come to expect and cherish, slowly outgrow such sentiments, until one fateful day all that would be left of such a wonderful relationship would be nothing but fond memories to recall for pleasant comfort in old age.

Emma's blunder was truly inexcusable and selfish, but to say that both her and Mr. Knightley's love and expectation for her had not become quite selfish as well would be just as unsound.

This, Anne Taylor forced herself to realize as she continued to soothe the crying youth in her arms, was something that needed great consideration after all.

Quick steps were suddenly heard, fallowed by a surprised gasp as a chambermaid dropped the linens she carried, seconds before crossing the doorway.

The governess wasted no time in waving her away gently.

The quick-witted maid nodded in understanding and within seconds cleared the floor of the mess before leaving them to their privacy once more as she soundlessly shut the doors behind her.

Anne sighed softly, silently chastising herself for leaving those wretched doors open in the first place.

"I am sorry to make you cry, Miss Taylor" Emma's voice was soft as it croaked from around the older woman's shoulder, promptly garnering her full attention back to the girl in her arms "if I have really given you pain, then I know I cannot forgive myself"

A small chuckle was heard from the governess "you silly little thing…" she sniffed, sighing once more "growth cannot occur where forgiveness is not planted"

And very soon after the two were sobbing once more, both in comfort and pain, while Emma borrowed deeper into her motherly embrace.

It was for the first time since the incident that the youngest Woodhouse was able to really cry with the full guilt of that which she had done.

It was not that she did not mean her tears then when Mr. Knightley had discovered her, she had been ashamed from the very beginning, but there was just something about the gentle Miss Taylor that always brought out the better part of her.

Perhaps it was her honest kindness, or her relentless care—maybe it was just her unwavering support for her no matter what—but what Emma was very sure of was that she owed her governess much more than she truly deserved.

Realizing now that today she could have very easily lost the comfort of these warm arms around her, made her cry even harder.

That she could have lost the support of her family, that she could have tarnished all of their illustrious reputation without a care in the world, made her want to lock herself up in her rooms to never again emerge.

"You may cry to your heart's content tonight" Miss Taylor assured her, ignoring her own blotchy tear stained face "come tomorrow however, you must be the young lady you so claim to be, and this guilt and pain, you must turn it into a lesson you can overcome"

Emma nodded her understanding, vowing to take those words to heart, but for now she would allow herself to cry.

It was not a pleasant scene, nor was it a heartwarming one, but it was a kind of bitter sweetness that was necessary if any semblance of normality would ever hope to be recovered between them after this nightmare of a day would be over.

And for the first time in a very long while, the young woman who wished so feverishly to be regarded as all grown up, wanted nothing more than to be small enough to hide behind the protection of those understanding arms for just a little longer.

Even when Anne lead her towards the bed to sit, Emma still would not let go, almost as if she were afraid that the older woman would disappear the second she did.

Her governess saw no other option but to oblige and sat besides her, adjusting and helping the distraught girl who had then chosen to lie down with her blonde head in the older lady's lap.

Emma happily welcomed the soft fingers that came down to stroke through her hair soothingly.

Just like when she was a little girl.

"Miss Taylor…"

"Hmm?"

"Will I ever be forgiven?"

Her voice was still soft, and if the dark haired woman hadn't known any better she would have thought that the always self-assuring and confident Emma Woodhouse sounded almost… _afraid_.

"Dear girl, I have already forgiven you"

"I know that I do not deserve it" her charge expressed, closing her watery eyes and easing her pretty features into a look of serenity "but I cannot lie, it is so very alleviating to hear you say it"

"I know"

"Will Mr. Knightley ever come to forgive me as well?"

Miss Taylor aloud the breath she had held at hearing the question, fall steadily.

She knew that when it came to the blonde girl who was still snuggling in her lap, anything she would do would receive her willing forgiveness almost instantly, even to her better knowledge, the governess was forced to accept that the soft spot she had always held for the youngest Woodhouse sister would forever remain so.

Her employer however, treasure Emma as much as she knew he did, would certainly not be so easy to win over this time around.

The image of his bewildered and hurt eyes when she saw them just that afternoon was still very much engraved in her memory.

As if his ward's utterly unbecoming actions positively hunted him, and would continue to do so for quite some time.

Unforgiving, Anne Taylor knew he was not, but she had a feeling Mr. Knightley would not soon forget this day for a very long time.

"…Miss Taylor?"

"I think" The governess finally responded, looking down to meet the deep and inquisitive eyes watching her closely "that you must work very hard from now on to prove yourself to him, to show him that you have not taken for granted all that he has done for you, and that this silly tantrum will never become you again…and with time you will cure him of this pain"

Emma's eyes grew wetter once more, and she bit her lip.

"I believe he too has already forgiven you, but you must wait for Mr. Knightley to come to terms on his own accord, you must have given him quite the fright today—it will be your turn now to be the patient and comprehensive party"

"I suppose that's fair"

' _You suppose?_ ' Miss Taylor bit the inside of her cheek as to not show her amusement, leave it to her pupil to retain that which made her so very Emma, even at a time such as this.

"Come, let us get you ready for dinner, the least we want is to make Mr. Knightley any more cross by making him wait longer than he should this evening" she replied instead, attempting to lift her troublemaker up from the comfortable position she would not relent, much to no avail.

The table would be ready in less than forty minutes and neither herself nor Emma had prepared.

"Go now, off to Sophie!"

"Must I?" the blonde complained, finally sitting up so that her governess could stand

"You know Miss Taylor, I had a very large luncheon just a few hours ago, perhaps it would suit me to do without dinner?"

"You cannot hope to assume avoidance can go on forever" Miss Taylor chuckled "better to get it over with as soon as is possible"

"But Mr. Knightley—

"Would never begrudge you sustenance" with a pointed look, the un-amused governess gestured to the doors "there is a handsome dress waiting for you, Miss Woodhouse, do give it the justice it deserves"

"Oh very well" Emma finally acquiesced with a petulant pout "but only because one must look their best, even when forced to meet their doom" she grumbled, curtsying briefly as she all but stomped away, leaving a huffing Anne Taylor in her wake.

The dark haired woman shook her head with another melodic chuckle as she straightened the delicate fabric of her own dress.

' _Emma Woodhouse, indeed!'_

 _..._

Donwell, although very large with its extensive wings and numerous rooms, did not harbor pin quiet halls.

Naturally there were more solitary areas than lively ones, but as Emma descended the grand main staircase into the main room of which passage led straight to the formal dining area, she could not help but notice that the general atmosphere in the air was rather much more hushed than usual.

Even sweet and talkative Sophie did not speak more than five words while helping her into her evening dress a little while ago.

Believing it perhaps might have been due to a personal matter, the young mistress had not pried and instead allowed her to work in comfortable quietude, but now that she walked past yet another somber footman, Emma could not help but wish she had asked her usually lively attendant if anything was the matter after all.

"Ah good, you're ready" Miss Taylor greeted once the puzzled girl had reached her destination.

She ignored her governess' hands as they came up to adjust the trimmings of her dress and arrange the cascading blonde curls over her shoulder "Does it not feel a bit strange to you?" she focused on asking instead.

"Strange?" the dark haired woman questioned lightly, offering her elbow so that her charge could lead them into the dining hall.

Emma obliged her and took a step forward "The atmosphere—I can't help but feel unsettled"

"It must be the storm raging in your heart" Miss Taylor reasoned, bringing her left hand to pat the younger girl in assurance "all is well, do not fret."

Emma wanted to protest, she knew that whatever _it_ was, it was beyond that of her own feelings, but they were approaching the table now, so she bit her tongue in resignation instead.

For all her worries about how she would be able to face Mr. Knightley after all that had happened, the Woodhouse girl was rather surprised and quite relieved to find her guardian's seat completely empty.

"Oh?" she heard Miss Taylor wonder out loud "it seems we will be dining on our own after all"

Emma nodded, fixing her gaze on her plate.

The place at the head of the table was left completely bare, not a utensil in sight, and suddenly she couldn't help the guilt tightening in her chest.

Was Mr. Knightley truly so angry and disappointed that he would rather forgo eating than see her wretched face?

"Master has asked me to beg forgiveness in his place, there was a matter that needed his attention and therefore he is not able to attend this evening's meal" The head footman in charge of overseeing all matters of the table, announced as he filled Emma's goblet with water.

The governess nodded from across her, and Emma could not help but notice the almost imperceptible glance the older woman gave her before looking away just as quickly.

"Very well" Miss Taylor smiled "Let us say grace quickly then, my dear, for though it is a shame that Mr. Knightley is not present, I can already see cook has outdone herself"

Emma nodded and brought her hands together absentmindedly; she hardly recalled her short prayer however, due to the strange sense of forbearance that she could not help but feel overcome her.

Much of dinner was spent as such, and as the hour came to an end, the young lady had hardly touched anything in her plate, despite of the grand selection that customarily graced Donwell's table, and though her appetite was usually very good, Mr. Knightley's ward had become so preoccupied with his absence and what it entailed that she could think of little else.

And before Miss Taylor was given the chance to protest her lack of nourishment, her pupil had suddenly risen from her seat and excused herself with all the grace befitting her station.

The governess would have protested with more effort had it not been for the sickly look to her poor Emma's complexion and the uncharacteristic weary stare of her eyes.

"Very well, go then and rest"

Emma's curtsy was swift, and at the blink of an eye she was already crossing the threshold.

Her steps were quick and determined, her pace as rushed as the rapid drumming heart threatening to burst from its enclosure deep inside her chest.

And then her legs stopped, coming to a sudden halt only after approaching a very large and familiar handsome door.

Taking a deep breath, the girl lifted a pale hand to knock upon it several times.

 _No answer_.

Looking around her and finding no prying eyes to chastise her, Emma grasped the intricate metal handle before pulling it open ever so slowly.

"Mr. Knightley?" she called with a deathly silent whisper.

Her effort was rewarded with yet another absence of answer.

Nodding with determination for a boost of courage, the pale hand grasping the handle pushed forward, allowing its owner a clear view of the inside of the room.

Just as she had thought, it was empty.

Emma promptly stepped into the chamber and used the weight of her body to shut the door behind her, allowing her eyes to observe the spacious area in its entirety.

The blonde scrunched her nose.

It was still very masculine and rather boring, just as it had always been.

Taking a few more steps she neared the grand mahogany desk by the center, though very neat indeed, there were a few letters and parchments recklessly left scattered on it's surface, and for a brief moment Emma contemplated reading them.

 _Just a very brief moment though!_

For she was on a mission, and there was little to no time to waste, and _honestly_ she was willing to wager that half of it was from John and the other half had to do with whatever it was that magistrates had to worry about, anyway.

Reaching inside her dress, she pulled out a small folded letter, addressed to the owner of the study, and placed it on top of the miniscule pile of papers.

It was Emma's intention to hand it to Mr. Knightley personally, after dinner, but now she was left no other choice.

But perhaps this was for the better after all, she reasoned, for the ward had no idea how she could have faced her guardian before saying all that she wished to say, clarify all that she hoped to clarify, and apologize in a most sincere and befitting way.

None of the words she would have wanted to say would have ever been expressed in person with the same strength of intension, or at least in a way in which it would have given them justice.

No, in paper she could be as honest and as remorseful as she truly felt, without letting pride get in the way.

She only hoped that Mr. Knightley would even bother to read it, not that she'd begrudge him if he chose not to.

Though knowing him, he would certainly be happy she even took the time to write anything at all, what with all the ways the gentleman endlessly berated her about her studies, or lack there of.

Yes, Emma grinned, this method would work out swimmingly!

Patting her beloved letter with one last look to the desk before heading out, the girl still could not help but find herself slowly frowning.

With a roll of her eyes she turned her attention back to the slight mess, and ever so discretely, set about organizing it into a much neater pile, making sure that her own letter was still sitting promptly at the very top.

Nodding to herself in satisfaction, the blonde turned around once more and headed straight for the door.

Thin light eyebrows twitched suddenly, and then she stopped in her tracks again.

Biting her blossom lips thoughtfully, she ran back to the desk, quickly making use of the quilted pen already resting on the gold inkpot at the right hand side of it, hastily she opened the first drawer to find paper, any paper, but was unsuccessful, and with a huff was forced to grab her letter once again.

Swiftly flipping it around, she dipped the quilt and with little thought scribbled some short words on the blank expanse of space available.

Finally completely and utterly triumphant, Emma Woodhouse ignored the heat in her cheeks as she returned the pen back in its place.

She walked back to the door, yet again, and this time she opened it ever so slightly to peer outside, content at seeing still not a single soul around, she stepped out into the corridor and closed it behind her once more.

Humming to herself softly, she headed with an air of merriment towards the end of the hall, wondering briefly if it were possible to charm cook into preparing her a quick supper without alerting Miss Taylor.

Inside the somewhat abandoned study—well for the night at least—atop the now very neat desk sat the elegantly written note patiently waiting for its owner.

 ** _This most unworthy Emma hates it very much when Mr. Knightley misses dinner_**

 ** _..._**

 ** _A/N:_** For whoever might still want to remeber this story. I know it's been a while but even though I have mapped out and know exactly where this story will go, I had lost my muse for writing and did not dare to even post single word until I got it back. It wouldn't have been fair to myself and to the readers, you guys deserve better than half-assed work. still a little rusty though, but hope you enjoyed it :)


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